


We'll Be Wed Before Dawn

by bertie456 (bertee)



Series: Bones: You're Lovely to Me [18]
Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-01
Updated: 2008-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertie456





	We'll Be Wed Before Dawn

"You don't look like a Dominic."

Taking a sip of beer, Booth chuckled at her statement. "What, is there some anthropological 'Dominic' norm? Some set of characteristics that all Dominics must conform to?"

Curled up on her partner's couch, Brennan frowned in response. "No. Evolutionary traits are based on physical and social attributes, designed to aid survival. Name doesn't factor into those," she said slowly, like a high school science teacher talking to a particularly dim student.

Booth grinned. "It was a joke, Bones." Seeing her drop her eyes to her beer in embarrassment, he changed the subject, "So how come I don't look like a Dominic? Should I have asked the undercover ops guys to pick a better name?"

His partner considered this, and Booth briefly wondered what names were running through her head as she eyed him critically. Eventually she concluded, "I don't think I'd be comfortable calling you any other name. I mean, I'm so used to calling you Booth that nothing else seems to suit you."

He took another swig from the beer bottle before saying teasingly, "You do know my name is not actually Booth, right?"

Brennan's eyes widened, clearly wondering whether, like her parents, Booth had some deep dark secrets in his past. Seeing this fear flash across her face, he felt a pang of guilt, and reassured her quickly, "Seeley, Bones. My parents named me Seeley, remember?"

Her shoulders visibly relaxed, and he made a mental note to be more careful with his jokes. Studying him intently, she announced, "You don't look like a Seeley either."

"What? How can I not look like a Seeley? I _am_ a Seeley," he countered defensively, suddenly protective of his parents' interesting choice of Christian name.

She shrugged. "Just my opinion."

Scowling at her, he glanced back down at the file on his lap. "Well, whatever you think I look like, our names are Dominic and Margaret Langley for the next few weeks."

"But-"

"And it's non-negotiable," he continued, not wanting to hear her objections. "If you'd been nice to the guy who was in charge of the fake papers, maybe he wouldn't have given you such an old lady name, but you went and made fun of his hand spasms, so now you're stuck with it."

"I didn't make fun of him!" she protested with conviction. "All I said was that chronic masturbation is often a factor in hand spasms of that nature."

Suppressing a smirk, he pointed out, "Yes, but you said that very loudly and in front of the entire office. You're lucky Margaret was the worst he gave you."

Brennan took a sip of beer in a manner that could only be described as sulking but made no further complaint. Taking advantage of her silence, Booth moved on to more pressing business, "Okay, so the Bureau's picked out our names, got the house ready and got me a cover job in Dallas, but they decided to let us come up with our own backstory."

"Why?" she inquired, still bitter about the Margaret bombshell. "They decided everything else; can't they just create a backstory while they're at it?"

"Well, aside from the fact that we solve murders, Cullen recommended us for this assignment because he thinks we make a believable married couple," he said, flipping through the stack of papers he'd been given. "So they thought it would be better if we came up with our own story. You know, something that we can both agree on and that seems right for the way we interact with each each." Finding the paper he was looking for, he brandished it in triumph. "But they did give us questions to help us out."

Cheered up by the thought of a undercover-relationship pop quiz, Temperance sat upright, crossing her legs and looking at him expectantly as he read aloud, "Where did we first meet?"

"At a crime scene," she answered instantly and Booth rolled his eyes.

"Not "we" as in you and me, Bones. "We" as in Dominic and Margaret."

Her shoulders slumped slightly at having given the wrong answer, but she quickly regrouped, suggesting, "High school? We could say we were high school sweethearts?"

"You do know I'm older than you, right?" She stared at him, not seeing the problem. "When I was eighteen, you were thirteen?"

"Oh. Maybe we could say that you got held back? That you failed to graduate?"

"Five times?" he asked, insulted. "Jeez, Bones, nice to know what you think of me."

"Not _you_ you. Dominic you," she said with a cheerful smile.

"Just... no, okay, Bones? I'm supposed to be this intelligent guy with a high-flying job, not someone who failed to graduate five times."

"You come up with something then," she challenged, folding her arms across her chest.

Never one to prevent fiction from imitating reality, Booth suggested, "We were colleagues. We saw each other every day, and we became friends, and then started going out. And then, you know, we got married."

He shot her a persuasive smile as she rolled her eyes. Crucially, however, she didn't reject the idea, and he moved on to the next question. "Where did we go on our first date?"

"My first boyfriend took me to see the college performance of Romeo and Juliet," she informed him brightly, before adding with less enthusiasm, "It wasn't a very plausible story. There is no chemical that can replicate death to that extent without having serious side-effects."

Dragging the conversation back on topic, Booth interrupted, "As much as I'd love to hear about the scientific inaccuracies of Romeo and Juliet, I meant where did we, as a fictional couple, go on _our_ first date?"

"We went to see Romeo and Juliet," Brennan answered, refusing to show that she had misunderstood the question. "Only it was a proper play, not a college production."

Booth wrote notes on his sheet, before asking, "And when was our first kiss?"

"After our first date."

"Okay..." He scribbled more notes. "And the first time we slept together?"

"After our first date."

"Okay..." His mind finally caught up to his mouth. "What? No!"

"What, you didn't want to sleep with me after our first date?"

Looking like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights, Booth stammered, "Yes? I mean, no, no, I- we- it's just-" Taking a deep breath, he tried again, with the same courage as the rabbit turning to stare down the approaching truck, "I'm just not the kind of guy who'd try to get you into bed on the first date."

She put her hands on her hips, before effectively flooring the gas and mowing down rabbit-Booth, "But _I_ 'd try to get _you_ into bed on the first date?"

He gaped at her. "Bones, I didn't mean..." Deep breath. Regathering of masculine confidence. "Look, regardless of our own preferences for sex on the first date, I don't think Dominic and Margaret would sleep together straight away."

"Roxie and Tony would have," Brennan pointed out with a slight smirk.

The smirk was contagious and Booth relaxed a little as he replied, "Yeah, but for Roxie and Tony, sleeping together probably _was_ their first date. I think Dominic and Margaret might be a little more restrained."

"Fine," she relented. "Third date."

"One month anniversary."

"Fifth date."

"Three week anniversary."

"Sixth date, which also happened to be two weeks after the first date."

"Deal," Booth said with a grin, before glancing down at his sheet again. "When did we move in together?"

Brennan frowned. "Don't we need to get our story straight about our first time?"

Swallowing suddenly became very difficult. "What?"

"Well, shouldn't we decide when it happened, where we were, how good it was and that type of thing?"

"Bones, we are going undercover in a tiny suburban community. We are not going to be Spanish Inquisitioned about our first time together," he said firmly, hoping that he would not have to share any fantasies about just how good their first time together would be.

She still did not look satisfied. "But what if someone asks?"

"They're housewives, Bones, not Angela." Gripping the conversational rudder, Booth steered with all his might as he asked again, "When did we move in together?"

"You moved into my apartment after eight months of dating," she said with a surprising amount of confidence for someone making it up as she went along.

Against his better judgement, Booth walked straight into another argument. "Why did I move into your place?"

"Because it's nicer than yours," she answered matter-of-factly.

Agreeing that her apartment was nicer than his, but unwilling to admit it, he countered adroitly, "What about Parker? He couldn't come stay with me at your apartment and there's no way I would give up my son. You moved into my place."

Temperance wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Do we have any children?" Booth looked at her blankly and she elaborated, "I didn't think Dominic and Margaret had children. Unless you're bringing Parker undercover with us?"

"Of course I'm not bringing my son undercover in a murder investigation," he stated, offended by the thought.

"Then why is Parker a factor in our fictional history? If you and I were actually moving in together, which we're not, then obviously we'd buy a new place as neutral territory, but Dominic and Margaret wouldn't need to worry about children, and so could move into my apartment."

Thoroughly baffled by her use of pronouns and aliases, Booth just nodded helplessly, before moving on, "Next question: when did we get engaged, and how did I propose?"

Temperance thought for a moment, before saying, "Am I allowed to protest at the principle of engagement and the outdated institution of marriage?"

"Nope."

"Then we got engaged after living together for almost a year," she replied, giving him an open smile.

Satisfied with her answer, he prompted, "And how did I propose?"

The confused look was back. "Aren't you supposed to answer that question? You're the one who proposed to me."

Sighing, Booth put down his papers and looked at her, trying to envision a scenario in which he could propose to her without her running a mile or rendering him unable to have children. "I, uh, I took you out for a romantic dinner." She wrinkled her nose and he amended, "Not a dinner. We went for a walk in the woods, uh, and it rained. You took my jacket, and found the ring in my pocket, because you're nosy like that, and so I proposed."

"In the woods, in the rain and by accident?" Temperance asked skeptically.

He nodded, suddenly full of irrational fear that she wouldn't like his (imaginary) proposal. His anxieties quickly vanished as her mouth curved into a soft smile at the thought, and she said, absently, "I'd say "yes" to that." She realised what she'd said. "Uh, Margaret would. Say "yes" to Dominic, that is. Because she believes in marriage. And I don't."

Hiding his smirk, Booth continued, "And on the subject of marriage, when was the wedding? I'm thinking summer." She made a disapproving noise. "Or spring?" Disapproving noise. "Fall?"

"I actually imagined a winter wedding."

"Winter? But wouldn't it be kind of..." Non-traditional. Close to Christmas. Out of season. "Cold?"

Brennan raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Cold? You wouldn't let me have a wedding in winter because you would be cold?"

Desperate to salvage some manly pride, Booth argued, "It's not just the cold. It'd be rainy in winter, plus if it was close to Christmas, all our family and friends would be on vacation."

"What about early January?" she suggested, her eyes taking on a wistful gleam as she described, "It wouldn't be too rainy at that time of year, and it might even snow on our wedding day. And if we held it after New Year's Day, we could have all our family and friends there too."

Booth couldn't stop a dreamy smile spreading across his own face at the picture she painted, and he said quietly, "That would be amazing." Again, realisation dawned. "Um, would _have_ been amazing. For Dominic and Margaret."

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Good."

Clearing his throat, Booth checked his list again. "So we've covered our first date, our first kiss, moving in together, getting engaged and getting married. The only other thing is children."

"I don't want children," Brennan stated decisively.

He gave her a patient smile. "I know you don't, Bones, and I'm not about to give you any. What I meant was that Dominic and Margaret obviously aren't going to have children, and in a neighborhood like the one we're going to, that'll be unusual. What's our reason for not having kids?"

"I don't want them," she repeated.

"Yeah, but you're not going to fit in very well with the rest of the women if you say that." He tapped his pencil against his leg as he thought. "How about saying that we were waiting to have children until we moved to a new house, but now that we're there, we're trying for kids?"

She blinked. "So you're trying to get me pregnant?"

"It's kind of a joint effort, Bones."

Considering this idea, she acquiesced, "I guess I'm okay with us trying for a baby. As long as I don't actually have to have a baby."

"It's a deal," he said with a grin, jotting down their decision on the sheet. "Well, that's all the questions the Bureau gave me. Anything else you want to cover?"

She shifted a bit in her seat but nodded firmly. Leaning back, Booth said, intrigued, "Fire away, Bones."

"Do you cook?"

"What?"

"Do you cook?" She mimed what could either have been flipping a pancake or playing tennis. Booth looked at her, bemused, and she explained, "We're going to be living together, and I just wanted to find out a bit about your habits. Of course, if you don't want to tell me..."

"No, no, it's fine," he answered quickly, amused by her need to know everything beforehand. "Yes, I cook, and breakfast waffles are my speciality."

"Do you brush your teeth before or after breakfast?"

"After," Booth said, grinning at the detail of her questions.

"Do you shower at night or in the mornings?"

"At night."

"Do you wear boxers or briefs?"

Surprised, he paused for a second, but seeing that she was sincere in her question, replied, "Normally boxers."

"Do you snore?"

"Only if I sleep on my back."

"Do you sleep on your back often?"

"Only if I've been drinking."

"Do you snuggle?"

"Snuggle?" he asked with a chuckle, but she shot him a stern glare and he responded involuntarily, "No, Ma'am."

It was her turn to smile, but she continued anyway, "Do you read in bed?"

"No."

"Do you leave the toilet seat up?"

"No."

"Do you prefer to be on top?"

"No." His mind finally processed the question and he corrected quickly, "I mean, yes."

Temperance murmured something that sounded like 'Pity' before fixing him with a satisfied smile. "I think that's everything."

Slightly dazed from the quick-fire round of the pop quiz, Booth got to his feet and headed to the phone, "Do you need me to call you a cab? You probably shouldn't be driving after those beers."

"Wouldn't it be best for us to sleep together?" she asked, with genuine helpfulness.

Booth subtly checked the alcohol content of the beer before inquiring with the few words he could muster, "You what?"

His partner got to her feet, her blue eyes wide and innocent as she said, "Think of it as a test run for the next few weeks."

"Test-run?" he repeated incredulously, the word 'test' making him wonder if he'd be graded on performance.

Apparently not sharing in his astonishment, Brennan explained further, "If we're living together for that long, it only makes sense for us to get used to each other now."

The ability to form words had now deserted Booth, and he stood, looking between his partner and his bedroom in utter confusion.

"Booth?" She eyed him with concern. "Look, if you're not happy sharing your bed with me then that's fine, but I just thought it would be useful for us to become adjusted to sleeping together before we go to Texas." She gave him a friendly smile. "We're adults, Booth. I'm sure we can sleep in the same bed without anything inappropriate happening."

On hearing this and realising her intention, Booth felt a strange combination of relief (that sleep in this context meant actual sleep) and disappointment (that nothing inappropriate would indeed be happening.) However, relief won out, and he returned the friendly smile. "No problem. I mean, we're going to have to sleep together for weeks, right? One more night won't make a difference." He gestured to the door behind her. "The bedroom's through there."

Picking up her bag, she headed into the bedroom, saying gratefully, "Thanks, Booth."

"No problem," he called back, not entirely sincerely, as he busied himself with throwing out the empty beer bottles while she changed.

Locking the door and flicking the lights off, he knocked tentatively on his bedroom door, thinking that maybe, just maybe, they could manage to get through the next few weeks without crossing the line and becoming lovers, or taking an argument too far and becoming attacker and attackee.

However, when he entered the bedroom, it soon became clear that they would end up on top of each other one way or another, as they both announced at the same time, "I sleep on the left side."


End file.
